


Nothing Ventured

by LMT



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: And bodyslam, F/M, Student/teacher kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:13:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMT/pseuds/LMT
Summary: Aisha tries coming to Sensei Lawrence for dating advice, like the boys do.  It goes awry.
Relationships: Johnny Lawrence & Aisha Robinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 32





	Nothing Ventured

Aisha approaches him after practice, after she’s had a _good_ practice – she’ll never get the nerve to do it otherwise. She waits til the room is emptied out. “Sensei, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure,” he says. He lets her come close, faces her square, gives her full attention.

“I know the boys sometimes come to you for dating advice.”

He rocks back. “They come to me for _girl_ advice,” he corrects. “When they’re looking to score hot babes. Are _you_ looking to score hot babes?”

“No,” she says, rolling her eyes. Feeling stupid now – she should have known he wouldn’t cooperate.

“Then I don’t know if I can help you,” he says. “Since I don’t know the first thing about dating dudes.”

That’s funny enough to chase her bad attitude away. “Okay, fine, but you _are_ a dude,” she argues. “So you must know _something_.”

He crosses his arms. “Okay: shoot.”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m just trying to figure out a strategy. Because I _want_ to date. I _want_ to get laid. But I’m sick of all the pathetic guys asking me out just because I’m not mean to them. Why do I get punished for being nice? Ugly losers, awkward nerds, angry misogynists,” she rattles off. “Gross guys who don’t use deodorant.”

He makes a face. “Nasty.”

“Really nasty. And they obviously think I’m not pretty enough to be picky – and fine, maybe I’m not – but that doesn’t mean I have to get hit on by every reject male that breathes. Does it?” He’s listening to her, but he doesn’t speak up fast enough so she goes on. “So like, do I start being a bitch until it stops? Or do I give up, and just start saying yes to all of them one after the other, until I find one that’s okay?”

“No.” _That,_ at least, he has an answer for immediately. “If you start going with every guy who asks, people think you’re a slut. That’s how it works for girls,” he says with certainty. “Anyone who tells you different is a liar.”

“That’s right.” She grins at him. “The double standard is alive and well. See, you _do_ know some things.”

“Yeah, some things are never going to change.” He thinks a minute. Cocks his head. “My girlfriend in high school first got my attention by grabbing my hair and shoving sand down my shirt.”

He fluffs his gi top absently, and for some reason Aisha suddenly sees herself taking a fistful of sand and stuffing it down into that V. (She’s a little too short to hold him by the hair; she would do better to grip his collar instead.).

 _Oops._ Sexual fantasies about Sensei are a no-no; she’s had this talk with herself several times since joining.

She squashes the inappropriate thoughts and tries to focus on his meaning. “So, what – you think I should just… go for it? Skip over the ones who are asking _me,_ and pick a guy myself, and…?”

He turns and gestures to the motto on the wall. _Strike first._

“Well… yeah, but the ones who aren’t asking me presumably don’t _want_ me,” she points out. 

“So?”

She blinks. “So… asking out people who don’t want you is how you get turned down.” He still doesn’t seem to get it. “And it’s really embarrassing to get turned down. Which I guess you wouldn’t know,” she sighs, a little resentful. “I’ve seen the pictures. You were hot.”

Half his mouth quirks into a smile. “ _Was_ I? Thank you, Miss Robinson.” It’s only afterwards that she realizes that the _were_ was rude, but she can’t say _are –_ that would be crossing a line.

“Choose your battles,” he says. “You can always make moves on a stranger, because who cares. Or on someone you trust, who won’t be an asshole. Getting turned down is only embarrassing if the person is a dick. And if they are,” he adds, “You should kick ‘em in the face. I guarantee they’ll be politer next time.”

“Strike hard.”

“That’s right.” He squares up. “Basically, you just have to take aim and take your shot.” Like he’s coaching her in a match. “And aim high – don’t waste your time with nerd losers. Or guys who don’t treat you right,” he adds. “If you find one of _them,_ punch him.”

She laughs.

“No, seriously. Punch him _twice_ – once for me, because guys like that just make it harder for the rest of us.”

She can’t tell if he’s kidding – it seems like he’s not. “I kind of love that your dating advice is literally _strike first, strike hard,_ ” she giggles _._ “I feel like I should have seen that coming.”

He shrugs. “It’s good advice.”

Maybe it is. She finds herself looking down at the V of his top again. She thinks of the sand again.

Screw it; he _just_ finished advising her to go ahead and make moves. It will only be embarrassing if he’s a dick.

She reaches out and grips his collar as she closes the distance. When she’s standing right in front of him she puts her other hand up behind his neck, and pulls him down into a kiss.

Their lips do physically make contact, but otherwise it’s a total failure. He rears back _instantly_ , and he’s fast, ripping free and holding her away. “Whoa! Whoa whoa whoa.” His hands are clamped tight on her shoulders and he’s stiff-arming her like she is dangerous. Or gross. Or both.

He couldn’t be clearer if he tried, this is a _nightmare,_ but still, she can’t help one desperate refusal to accept reality. “But why not?”

He re-grips. Looks down at her for a while. “Because I’m your Sensei,” he says. Hard and harsh as ever – but he doesn’t sound _mad._

She can live with this. She’ll have to. She tries to smile. “That’s better than _I don’t do fat chicks._ ”

He huffs. “Well, I don’t. Or chicks with glasses.”

She can feel her mouth fall open. _This_ is why she doesn’t strike first when it comes to dating. 

She’s thinking of how she’s going to disappear from this place and never see him again, never see _any_ of them again, when suddenly the world blurs.

“Luckily glasses come off,” he says, as he’s unhooking hers from her ears. He folds them. “And you’ve changed since you first came here. I see some muscle now.”

She sees his head dip – he’s looking her up and down, _checking her out,_ and now this nightmare is one of those _sexy_ nightmares and she doesn’t know what to do.

“Yeah. Not bad.” He puts a hand under her chin and tips her face up. “If I wasn’t your Sensei we could probably work something out.”

She slaps his hand away. “Don’t lie just to be _nice_ to me,” she snaps. Pissed.

“I don’t _lie_ to my students,” he snaps back, just as pissed. And then he proves it: he bends down and mashes his lips to hers.

It’s hard, almost violent, and it doesn’t last long. But it is absolutely a kiss – a deep one, his tongue moving in her mouth, _way_ in there, sure and possessive. 

This is without doubt the sexiest nightmare she’s ever had. She feels his hands on her shoulders for just a split second, before she’s airborne and then rocked by a full-body crash.

He’s not kissing her anymore; he’s kneeling over her and she’s lying flat on the mat.

She swallows. Her mouth is all wet and she can’t stop staring at his and her body _wants_ like it never has – but her brain is working. She’s not hurt. She’s okay. It’s just he swept her. She blinks a couple of times. “Did you actually just sweep me off my feet?”

He smirks down at her. He unfolds her glasses – which he’s held on to this whole time, without crushing – and sets them back on her face delicately. (She had no idea that _delicate_ was even in his repertoire!). 

“Now listen.” He looks her up and down again. She full-body shivers. “You deserve a man who is badass, and hot, and who treats you with respect,” he tells her, in the same tone he gives orders with in class.

And like in class, there’s only one thing to do about it. “Yes, Sensei.”

He smiles at her – _not_ like in class, where the most you ever get is a short nod of approval – and pops to his feet. Offers her a hand and pulls her up. “You should go out there and get one,” he tells her, softer. Touches her under the chin again to force eye contact. “Don’t settle, you hear me? You’re worth more than those lame-asses that follow you around.” He lets go of her, opens space between them, returns his voice to normal. “You’re decent-looking and your moves are solid. You got this.”

She nods. Bows to him. He bows back, dismisses her like it’s any other day.

Years later when she tells people about the time she made an underaged pass at her karate teacher, she describes it as the gentlest rejection she’s ever received. Brutal bodyslam notwithstanding.

********************************************

**The End.**

**Let me know what you think!**


End file.
